


you're the one i wanna grey with

by cosetties



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Insecurity, Lack of Communication, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, post-S3, pre-s4, this is just mindless fluff tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 03:59:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11176551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosetties/pseuds/cosetties
Summary: They've only been dating a month, so Isak shouldn't be pathetic enough to miss Even this much when he's only gone for a weekend. They're taking this completely chill, but Isak is starting to realize that he has no chill when it comes to Even.





	you're the one i wanna grey with

**Author's Note:**

> ahhh this fic has taken me so long to write, but i just wanted a little fluff to get me through the rest of the shitshow that is s4. shoutout to [ceecee](http://westiris.tumblr.com/) for reading over it. you are the absolute kindest person. thank you for motivating me always :)
> 
> title from grey by exes, which is such an evak song and y'all should listen to it.

It only takes Isak two hours to crack.

“Jonas, I think I feel sick,” he says. He pats his stomach for effect, which, to be fair, is actually feeling a little queasy. It probably has more to do with the pint of ice cream he’d eaten in thirty minutes than Even’s absence, but Even’s ski trip with his parents had led Isak down this dark, desperate path, so in a roundabout way, maybe it does have to do with his boyfriend. His very cuddly, very attractive boyfriend, who’s currently hugging the slope of a mountain instead of hugging  _ him,  _ which has to be one of the great injustices of the world.  

Jonas looks over from where he’s rifling through Isak’s fridge. “Man, I mostly came over here to eat the leftover quiche, but if you need me to be emotional support, I can be.”

“You mean the quiche that Even made?” Even’s been trying out a ton of new recipes lately, and Isak’s not complaining. He has first dibs on everything anyway, but he’s sure that his roommates are about to officially adopt Even.  _ If you two ever break up, I’m keeping him,  _ Noora had joked, but when Isak had only stared at her blankly, she hastily took it back.

It wasn’t until later that he realized it was the idea of him breaking up with Even, or, more likely, Even breaking up with _him_ , that made him freeze up. It had then taken a good hour of soul-searching for him to conclude that this is just honeymoon phase butterflies. Of course he’d be sensitive to this—they’ve only been dating for a month. They can’t break up now _,_ not when they’ve barely been together. He’s not being too clingy, too needy, too fucking _much_ already—he can’t be. He told Even they were going to take this completely chill, and he’s sticking with that. After what’s happened, after all the trust they have left to rebuild, it only makes sense to take this slow.

That doesn’t make his heart ache any less, doesn’t make it any easier to pretend that Even is just another crush when he’s well aware that it may run deeper than that, deep enough to land both of them in trouble if they’re not careful. But Isak has never been able to do things halfway, not when he really cares, and Jonas must sense that from the way he’s now looking at the quiche wistfully.  

“Seriously, Isak? He’s only been gone for, like, an hour,” Jonas says exasperatedly. He pulls out two forks from a drawer and hands Isak the other. Isak pokes at the quiche dejectedly, but it doesn’t make him miss Even any less. Even had danced around to his early-2000’s pop music playlist as he’d made this, and Isak remembers too clearly the way he’d nuzzled Isak’s nose, the way he’d gently tugged Isak from the counter until he was reluctantly bobbing along to Britney Spears, with Even’s hands tangled in Isak’s hair.

He pushes the quiche away. Jonas apparently has no similar qualms, because he starts shoveling the food into his mouth immediately. Isak purses his lips.

“Even’s been gone for a whole two hours,” Isak corrects him. “That’s two hours too long.”

A notification flashes on Isak’s phone, and Jonas points to it with his fork. “I bet that’s him right now.”

It’s a selfie of Even with his parents. They’re still on the bus, apparently, because the snow had slowed them down. They’re all grinning and waving, and Even looks so happy—without  _ him— _ that Isak has to close the message. His stomach churns. He’s not going to be that kind of boyfriend, he’s  _ not.  _ Isak’s not the jealous fuck he was his first year. Eva had forgiven him, somehow, but in her shoes, he’s not sure he would have. 

“He’s on his way there,” Isak says. 

“Why don’t you just ask him if you can call him tonight?”

Isak sighs, rubbing his temples. A headache is already forming, and he only has a sleepless night to look forward to. He’s been doing great on sleep lately, now that he has Even. It only takes Even’s warm breath on the back of his neck, or his arms around Even’s waist, for his eyes to drift closed. It’s always easier with Even there. Everything’s easier with Even there. That may grow into a problem, eventually. 

“He’s not going to have great service. Besides, this is the first weekend he’s spending with his parents in weeks. I can’t take that away from them,” Isak says. 

“I bet they wouldn’t mind.”

Isak stares at the table. “They’ve let their only son stay over with his brand new boyfriend, who they know nothing about, for the past month. I think I can give them a weekend.”

It had happened unexpectedly, but as far as unexpected things go, Isak thinks Even’s newfound presence in the kollektiv has been one of the best things that’s happened to him. Their toothbrushes sit side by side on his sink, Isak’s been collecting a drawer of Even’s shirts, and some days, he comes home from school to find Even already there, cooking them a meal or watching a movie they’ll ignore to make out on the couch instead. Isak has been lending out his key, but Eskild’s already telling him to make Even his own. It feels too permanent, though, and as much as Isak aches for that, they feel too new, too untested to take that step.  

It doesn’t make it any easier when Even decides to spend the night with his parents, or offhandedly calls their place home. Isak’s home is with Even, wherever he is, and it’s not fucking fair that he’s this attached already, when Even can’t possibly feel the same. He knows, logically, that Even must like him—quite a bit actually, if he’s willing to put up with all of Isak’s terrible habits and general grumpiness. But it’s a little hard to believe that someone that full of life can feel empty when Isak’s not around, not the way Isak needs Even. 

“Even’s parents love you,” Jonas says. 

“You’ve met them for two minutes,” Isak says drily. 

“I’m pretty sure I heard Even say those exact words. Like,  _ hey, Jonas, did you know that my parents love Isak? Isn’t that great?  _ I swear, you two only ever talk about each other. It’s pretty disgusting.”

“Well, Even’s biased,” Isak tells him. 

“As someone who’s  _ not  _ sucking your dick and is objectively less biased, I gotta say it’d be pretty hard for someone not to love you.”

A blush rises to his cheeks. No matter how casual Jonas makes it seem, or how often Magnus asks about gay sex, Isak doesn’t think he’ll ever get over the ease of this. Every time the guys catch Isak and Even after they’d spent the night together, Isak knows that they’re all well aware of what had gone on just hours before. It’s no secret. Mahdi has taken to high-fiving Even when he thinks Isak’s not looking (joke’s on him—Isak’s always looking at Even, now that he knows how much time he’d wasted not looking back), and Jonas snorts when he spies the marks on Even’s neck. A part of him appreciates it, but the thought of them imagining his dick and Even’s dick, and their dicks _together_ , makes Isak flush all over.  

“You’re biased too. You’re my best friend,” Isak reminds Jonas, desperate to stop there before he actually sets himself on fire. 

“For a  _ reason.” _

“Because our last names are so close together in the alphabet, and we were always forced to sit together?”

“That’s not why—okay, that may have been the reason why we first met, but that’s not why we stayed friends. I could’ve become best friends with Matthew Urdiales instead, but I picked you, dweeb.”

“That’s because Matthew stole your skateboard  _ and _ your girlfriend Lisa, who you thought you were in love with. When you were ten.” Even back then, when Jonas and the rest of his guy friends started talking about girls, Isak had never quite gotten it. Jonas had tried to convince him he was in love with Mary Hagen, because he’d teased her once or twice on the playground, but what the hell was he supposed to do when she literally always took the last cookie at lunch—the cookie that was rightfully his? Jonas better be eating his words now. 

Jonas laughs. He must recall the memory too. “Did you hear Matthew just got arrested for stealing a car?”

Isak whistles. “Dude upgraded.”

“But even if Matthew weren’t a piece of shit, you’d still be my best friend. Why do you think I’ve stuck with you for this long?”

“Because I’m the only one who can put up with your hipster ass?”

“Who stole my hipster Spotify playlists to impress his boyfriend?”

“I was desperate,” Isak protests.

Jonas snorts. “I bet you don’t have to impress him at all. Dude’s so gone for you.”

Isak looks down at his hands as the tips of his ears turn red. “You think?” he mutters. 

“As if this is news to you.”

And it isn’t. The other day, Even had color-coded Isak’s laundry for him, for God’s sake, and that’s real boyfriendly dedication, even if he’d only done so to make his clothes thieving more efficient. But sometimes, when Isak’s sad, it’s all too easy to for his own head to mess with him, to tell him that he’s making all of it up. Even’s just such a goddamn good person—better than Isak could ever be—that it’s hard to believe that he reserves any kind of special treatment for Isak of all people. Hearing it confirmed by someone else still makes his heart squeeze. 

Jonas finally sets down his fork with a sigh. It’s probably meant to be serious, but he still has some quiche stuck to the corner of his mouth, with makes it somewhat less effective. “Dude, this is ridiculous. Just call him.”

“But what if he doesn’t miss me as much as I miss him?”

Jonas smiles wide. “I don’t think that’s possible.” 

* * *

“You’re doing that wrong,” Sana says as she peeks over his shoulder. The lead of his mechanical pencil snaps as he presses it a little too hard against the paper, hissing out a frustrated breath. He’s been trying to finish this post-lab for hours, but he can’t identify any of these compounds. He’s sifted through his notes hundreds of times, but his mind keeps drifting off. The last time he’d finished a Chemistry assignment, Even had been right by his side, plying him with bites of pasta every couple of minutes. Now that Even’s away, he’s back to his regular schedule of Red Bull and sour cream and onion chips, and he can already feel his stomach revolting. 

He’s been spoiled, he’s well aware, but Even’s gone, so he figures he can be whiny about it.

Sana seems to think differently.

“Is this because Even’s away?” she says, as she takes the seat across from him. She’d finished her post-lab yesterday, and is already starting on their Physics assignment. She had offered to help him, but he’d been too stubborn to accept it—insisting that he needed to learn the material for himself. He’s quickly regretting that decision.

“No, it’s not because of him,” Isak says, a little petulantly. “He’s only been gone for a day, and I don’t need to be around him all the time.”

Sana cocks an eyebrow. “Are you sure? This isn’t like you.”

“Are you saying I’m smart normally? That’s nice of you, since you complain about being my biology partner at least twice a week.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“You’re just wrong.”

“You’re—“

But their argument is abruptly cut off by Eva, who unceremoniously dumps her textbooks on the table between them. “Help me,” she says, slumping into her chair. “The chemistry exam is on Monday, and I still don’t understand any of this.”

Sana flips through Eva’s worksheets. “Eva, this is all stuff you should’ve learned weeks ago.”

“I did learn it. I just forgot.”

Sana just keeps staring at her, until Eva holds up her hands in defeat. “In my defense, that was a great month for partying, okay? And then I just…never caught up.”

Sana shoots Isak an amused glance, which he gladly returns. Isak remembers that month. That was when Chris Schistad seemed to have the budget for a neverending number of parties in his apartment. Why he continues to hang out with high schoolers even after he’s long graduated, Isak will never know, but his liver had been fucked up for weeks. 

“Why didn’t you come sooner?” Sana says. “We told you we’d be at KB all afternoon.”

“I was trying to work up the energy to start,” Eva says helplessly.

“Dr. Phil?” Isak says.

“Don’t expose me like that. Knowing that people have shittier lives than I do is great motivation,” Eva huffs. 

Sana grabs Eva’s textbook and turns to the first chapter. “Okay, I think that if we start at the very beginning—“

“Isak! I just remembered. Even’s gone this weekend, right? How’s that going?”

Isak groans. Ever since he and Eva had become friends again, she’s made it her personal duty to check up on his relationship. It’s  _ fine,  _ really, and honestly, it’s kind of nice to talk about his boy with one of his oldest friends, but not today. Not when he’d rolled over to Even’s side of the bed this morning and found it cold. Not when he’d rifled through Even’s drawers in his room to find his comfiest hoodie, only to realize that Even had taken it with him. Not when Even’s barely been texting him at all, and when he does, it’s just quick updates on his trip. Like,  _ my mom fell off a chairlift this morning, it was hilarious  _ or  _ my dad faceplanted in some snow, I think he may be even clumsier than you.  _

Isak doesn’t want to bother him. He’s being ridiculous anyway. Normal people—normal, functioning, totally unclingy people—can deal with their boyfriend having a great time without them. He lived in the closet for seventeen years. He doesn’t need his boyfriend to hold his fucking hand all the damn time.

Isak must be taking too long to answer, because Sana does it for him. “He’s pining,” she says. 

Eva laughs. “Of course he is.”

Isak ducks his head. “I am  _ not.”  _

“That’s very convincing, Isak,” Eva deadpans. “You’ve totally persuaded me.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be learning two months’ worth of chemistry right now?” Isak says.

“Nope,” Eva says, popping the ‘p’. She props her chin up with her hands and smirks. “This is so much more interesting.”

“I’m fine,” Isak insists again. He wonders how many more times he’ll have to repeat it for them to start believing it, for him to start believing himself. Last night, he’d fallen asleep watching The Princess Bride, and he hadn’t even needed Even to cuddle him through. He’d watched it for the first time with Even last month, after he’d declared the fact that Isak had never watched it before an absolute, but redeemable tragedy. He would’ve enjoyed it more with Even there, but he’d refrained from sending Even an overly sentimental text about it. That’s progress, but it doesn’t feel like much of a victory. 

Sana tilts her head, and her eyes go soft. “Are you sure?”

Isak sighs. “I can last for two more days.”

“Does he know you’re feeling like this?” Eva chimes in.

“No, and he shouldn’t have to.” 

“Isak—“ Eva begins, but Isak is already bent over his post-lab again, tackling another problem. 

* * *

Eskild’s dogsitting for a friend this weekend, which means Isak gets assailed by a face full of chocolate Lab as soon as he walks through the door. The dog is licking Isak’s face so enthusiastically that he feels bad when he can only manage a halfhearted smile. Eskild manages to wrangle the dog off Isak, somehow. “Sorry, Minerva’s a little…energetic,” Eskild pants. He’s holding on to Minerva’s leash, but she tries to run off every few minutes, tugging Eskild along with her. 

“Are we even allowed to have pets in this building?” Isak brushes off his jeans.   

Eskild presses a finger to his lips. “What the landlord doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“How long are you keeping her?”

“Until Emily gets back from her honeymoon, which should be in three days.” Eskild rolls his eyes. “But knowing her and Ben and the eyes they were making at each other, they’re going to stay for even longer. Couples, am I right?”

Eskild winks at him, but falters when he sees Isak’s face fall. “Where’s Even? Doesn’t he basically live here now?”

“He’s skiing with his parents,” Isak says, hoping that he doesn’t sound as pathetic as he thinks he does, but it’s a lost cause. 

Eskild pouts. “Aw, baby gay, are you okay?”

Isak throws his hands in the air. “I’m so fucking tired of people asking me that question. This is the longest time Even and I have spent apart since we got together—of course I’m fucking  _ sad.”  _

Sad doesn’t even begin to describe it, but he’s already let on more than he’d wanted to. Even will be home in less than 48 hours anyway—and if this gets back to him, who knows what he’ll think? Isak sucks in a deep breath, and the fresh burst of air helps somewhat, but not enough. He’s still staring at his scuffed shoes when Eskild places a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“Let’s go for a walk, Isak,” he says softly.

“I don’t need you to feel sorry for me,” he says, but it sounds weak, even to his own ears.

Eskild shrugs. “I don’t. But Minerva is going a little stir-crazy cooped up in here, so you can either join me or spend a couple of hours being sad alone in your room.”

The truth is, Isak’s used to loneliness. Even back when he lived with his parents, they’d never felt much like family. It’s the kind of sadness that seeks comfort but keeps itself locked inside his chest, the kind of sadness that needs people but won’t let them get close. Isak had resigned himself to it, before moving into the kollektiv and before meeting Even, but he figures his friends have invested enough time in Isak for him to at least try not being a pathetic asshole.  

That’s how Isak ends up walking to the closest park with Eskild, as he chatters on about the three guys he’s currently courting from Tinder. Isak wonders how Eskild has the energy to deal with the constant uncertainty and miscommunication that would inevitably come with dating someone new. Hell, Isak can hardly keep up with the committed relationship he already has _ ,  _ but that may be more a function of his own overthinking brain than anything. Eskild’s probably never felt insecure a day in his life, and as he drones on about Jorge, the guy who he had won over by drawling through the Wikipedia pages of contemporary Norwegian artists, Isak asks, “What’s the longest you’ve dated someone?”

Eskild takes a second to respond, and he scratches the back of his neck. “Two years? Maybe? We were on and off for most of it.”

Isak blinks. “That long?” He’s always been under the impression that Eskild would never truly settle down. In the time he’s lived at the kollektiv, Eskild has gone through at least six guys, and that’s not counting the hookups who probably leave far earlier in the morning than Isak is ever awake. 

“You didn’t expect that?” Eskild says, chuckling.

“No, I mean—“

Eskild waves a hand. “It was way before you knew me.” Eskild’s smile turns wistful. “My first boyfriend, actually. I’d always known I was gay, but after I met him, I was sure of it.”

Minerva suddenly darts after a squirrel, and Isak follows her with his eyes as he considers his answer. With considerable effort, Eskild somehow manages to stay on his feet. “If you weren’t so goddamn cute,” he mutters at Minerva. She looks appropriately contrite, but not enough to calm down, and she keeps pulling Eskild along at a brisk pace.  

“Did you love him?” Isak finally asks. 

“I think so.” Eskild shrugs. “But who knows. I was young. I didn’t really know what love was.”

Isak wraps his arms around himself. “Even and I are very young,” he says. 

Eskild’s face falls. “Oh, Isak, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You’re right.”

“Just because I felt a certain way about my first boyfriend doesn’t mean everyone should.”

Isak kicks a rock on the path. “But I don’t even know if it’s love, or whatever, I’ve only been dating him a fucking  _ month,  _ it’s too early.”

“One thing I’ve learned throughout the years—“

“You’ve only a couple years older than me,” Isak interjects, but Eskild ignores him.

“—is that there’s no such thing as too much of anything in a relationship. What works for some people won’t work for others. That’s just how it goes.”

“But what if it is too much, too fast?” What if _I’m_ too much, Isak wants to say instead, but he already knows the answer to that one. He’s always needed other people to take care of him—people who are far kinder to him than he deserves. He’s never learned how to give back, not really, not when every gesture feels like nothing in comparison to everything they’ve done for him. 

“Do you feel like it is?” Eskild says.

That gives Isak pause. “No,” he says carefully. “But—”

“Then it’s not.”

“It can’t be that simple,” Isak says, frustrated. 

Eskild taps the side of his head. “I know you’re used to overanalyzing with that big brain of yours, but this isn’t something you can dissect. If it is, don’t you think it’d be easier for all of us to find what you and Even have?”

“He’s really cool,” Isak says, slowly.

“Yes, he is.”

“And he has good taste in movies, and he dresses nice, and everyone laughs at his jokes. Fuck.” Isak rubs his temples. 

“So that’s what this is about.”

“I know how I’m feeling, but what if he doesn’t feel the same way?” Isak says. Or worse, Even may only think he does, and he’ll wake up one morning to realize that Isak wasn’t worth the effort at all. No matter how hard Isak tries, he’ll never get everything quite right, he’ll never get love quite right. Isak won’t know how to let him go. He’d rather not have him at all. 

“Let me say this, very, very slowly, so I can get this through your thick head. He stares at you when he thinks you’re not looking. He always gets up early to make you breakfast, and is nice enough to cook for the rest of us too. He even told me you smell nice. That was the week when I refused to get within a five-foot radius of you.”

“He’s just a nice person.”

“Sure. But he can be a nice person  _ and _ head over heels for you.” Eskild turns to Isak. “Have you even talked to him about this?”

Isak flushes. “Well, no. I told him we were going to take things chill. I can’t be like, hey, I think I’m falling in love with you, and it’d be nice to know how you’re feeling too _.”  _

“Why not?”

Isak’s chest feels tight. “It’s not what he signed up for. What if it’s not what he wants?”

Minerva runs off again, but this time, not out of the range of her leash. She jogs back to Eskild with a stolen tennis ball in her mouth, and nudges it at his shoe. Eskild immediately drops to his knees to scratch behind her ears, which obviously also involves a lot of cooing. Isak thinks that Eskild’s already forgotten his question, until he says, “And what if it is?”

* * *

The rest of the boys are playing FIFA, but Isak can’t bring himself to tear his gaze away from his phone. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t break past a surface-level conversation with Even. At this point, he can’t bring it up without blindsiding Even, without making everything about his fucking feelings yet again. Even’s still waiting for him to respond to his selfie, but Isak can’t physically bring himself to type the words. It’s been three hours, and he can blame it on a nap later, but Even’s probably growing suspicious.  

“Dude, are you playing?” Magnus says, after their latest game ends. 

“Don’t you have enough people beating you already?” Isak says, but his heart’s not really in it.

Magnus pouts. “Rude.”

“How’s Even doing?” Mahdi asks.  

“He’s having a lot of fun.” Isak’s answer comes out robotic. 

“He’s supposed to be back tomorrow, right?” Jonas shoots Isak a sympathetic smile, and Isak knows, he fucking  _ knows,  _ that anyone else would take it as a comfort, but the prospect of going another day without Even makes Isak feel hollow. 

Magnus lets out a deep sigh, and leans against the couch. “Thank fuck. I can’t stand another second of Isak moping.”

Isak can’t even bring himself to deny it. There’s no point anyway, not when it’s obvious he’d invited them over so he wouldn’t get stuck inside his own head. 

“You sure you don’t wanna leave? Get a kebab or something?” Jonas says.

In response, Isak just rolls over to faceplant into the couch. Their last date before Even had left had been to that kebab place they all like. It’s not even Jonas’s fault, really. At this point, everything reminds Isak of Even. He’d almost broken down earlier when doing his laundry, because when Even had done it last time, Isak had ended up with pink boxer briefs. He’d pretended to be mad, but it’s impossible when Even’s making those eyes at him from under his messy bangs and twisting his fingers into Isak’s belt loops with clear intent. This boy makes him so weak. 

Isak barely has enough energy to lift his head when his phone pings with a text, but when he does manage to read it, he jumps from the couch, nearly crushing Magnus’s hand. He ignores Magnus’s yelp to say, “Shit, guys, it’s Even.”

Magnus perks up. “Can I say hi?”

Isak shakes his head vigorously. “Nope, no way. You guys gotta go.”

“You mean you’re kicking us out again?” Mahdi whines.

“I thought we were over this, man,” Jonas says. “We already know what you two are doing.”

“More reason for you shitheads to get out of here.”

“I mean, we already heard you guys that one time—“ Magnus begins, but Isak slams his hands over his ears.

“I told you we were going to forget about that,” he says between gritted teeth. In his defense, he thought they’d already left that particular pregame, and it wasn’t his damn fault that Magnus had forgotten his stupid hat, or that Even had looked positively sinful in those jeans that cling to his legs, or that Isak has a thing for tall boys. The situation was totally out of his control, and he accepts no responsibility for what his friends may or may not have heard. 

(“No one prays like that,” Mahdi had said, when Isak had tried to come up with an excuse, his face burning bright red.

Isak groaned. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Or like that,” Even chimed in, because he evidently didn’t give a shit about the fact that Isak was two seconds away from dying.

Even brings him to the point of death later that night with his mouth wrapped around Isak’s dick, but the boys had actually left by then, so no one has to know.)

“Not that easy to forget,” Jonas grumbles.

In the end, Isak manages to get them out the door by throwing their shoes outside. Jonas flips him off, but he helps herd Mahdi and Magnus through his back door, and Isak has never been more grateful for his best friend. Magnus is still complaining, and there will never be a time when Magnus’s crush on his boyfriend won’t weird him out. 

Isak opens the front door, slowly, carefully, a part of him still wary of what he’ll find on the other side. What if he’d gotten his hopes up? There’s no real reason for Even to be back early. 

He sighs in relief when he finds Even standing there, pink-nosed and rosy-cheeked, with a beanie pulled over his ears. There’s a moment of calm before his heart starts picking up again, thundering in his chest as he takes in the crinkles around Even’s eyes, his widening smile. Isak’s heart aches with the urge to kiss him. 

It only takes him another second to remember that he can. That knowledge still fucks with his head sometimes, but that doesn’t make it any less true. 

When Isak finally draws away from the chaste kiss, he keeps his arms looped around Even’s waist. “Hey,” he says.

“Hi, baby,” Even says, and Isak tingles from head to toe. 

“You’re not supposed to be back yet.” 

“Are you complaining?” 

In response, Isak just hugs him closer. He buries his face in Even’s neck, breathing in his familiar scent. Even draws circles on his back with one hand and threads his fingers in Isak’s hair with the other. Standing there, in the doorway of his apartment where anyone could catch them, Isak thinks this is it. This is his forever.

Fuck. He’s being too much again. Even must sense the sudden tensing of his muscles, because his hands come to rest at Isak’s hips, keeping him planted. “I brought you a gift,” he says.

“A gift?”

Even starts rifling through his bag. “I thought, well, if I was going to surprise my boyfriend, I may as well commit to being extra as hell. It’s kinda dumb, actually, but I saw it, and I thought of you—I don’t know why—“

Isak doesn’t speak when Even places the snow globe in his hands. After a beat of silence, Even coughs. “Fuck, I know it’s cheesy, and it doesn’t even make sense—“

Isak shakes the snow globe, until the inside is filled by a flurry of white flakes. A smile spreads across his face. “It’s perfect, baby.”

“That’s why,” Even whispers, like a revelation. He places a hand on Isak’s cheek. 

“What?”

“That’s why it made me miss you. Because I knew it would make you smile.”

When Even starts stroking a hand along his cheekbone, Isak melts. “You missed me?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t miss you?”

Isak lowers his head. “You looked like you were having fun.”

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you. You said no when I asked if you wanted to come.”

“I thought you wanted to spend time with your family.”

“That’s what I would’ve been doing, with you there.”

It takes Isak a moment to get it, a long moment when his world flips and then rights itself again. But when he does, his heart begins to swell, threatening to burst through his chest. He’s so young, and they both have so much of their lives left to live, but he thinks, whether he dies at twenty or a hundred and twenty, he’ll never find something quite like this again. For the first time, thought doesn’t scare him, because he’s beginning to believe that Even feels the same way, as weird as that sounds. 

Or maybe it’s not weird at all. Maybe that’s the only way their story was ever meant to go. 

“I was afraid to tell you how much I missed you,” Isak confesses.

Even cocks his head, looking adorably confused. “How come?”

“I told you we were going to take this completely chill, minute by minute, and we haven’t been dating for very long, and I should’ve been  _ fine—“ _

Even throws his head back, laughing. “You know, a part of taking this chill is not letting yourself overthink whatever you’re feeling.”

Isak squeezes Even’s hand, and his doubts disappear when Even squeezes back just as tightly. “Can I tell you what I’m feeling now?” he asks quietly.

“Go for it.”

Isak’s brain isn’t used to letting go, to letting his heart take over, but his brain has never been able to reason through how he fell for Even so hard, so quickly. And maybe that’s okay. “I think I love you,” Isak admits. 

Even chuckles. “I  _ know  _ I love you.”

“Oh,” Isak says. He’s stopped keeping his smile under control. “That’s cool.”

He’s chill. He’s so fucking chill that he tackles Even into a searing kiss then, nearly toppling him over. His hands scramble blindly for Even’s ass as he grinds into his crotch, and they’re both laughing so loudly that all their neighbors can hear. Even is biting his lip in the way that always gets Isak going, and it’s so great, and holy shit, Even is in love with him. Isak is kissing a boy who loves him. He doesn’t think that’ll ever get any less exciting.

Isak whimpers when Even eventually pulls away. “Would it be cool if we went inside? There are some things I want to do that may be better in private,” Even says. 

Isak can’t resist pressing a kiss to his nose. “You can do absolutely anything.”

“We can do absolutely everything,” Even agrees. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> hello come talk to me [on tumblr](http://bechnaesun.tumblr.com/)!


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